


Revelations

by LaBelleetlaloup



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Female Merlin, Magic Reveal, The Old Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:05:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3864568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBelleetlaloup/pseuds/LaBelleetlaloup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur finds out about Merlin's magic because she talks back to Uther. Everything goes a little better than Merlin anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> I have given Merlin a background completely unrelated to canon for the sake of this story. Just wanted to try the idea out of Merlin being raised by people in the Old Religion to protect Arthur, the Once and Future King.

It had been a long day, Merlin conceded to her short temper, holding a silent vigil behind Arthur at supper. Uther had been fit to be tied since he had awoken and she had heard about it without cease since she had ventured into the kitchens that morning for Arthur’s breakfast. That had been long ago, she stifled a sigh as Arthur twitched and she realized his glass was nearing empty. With a silent step forward, she was by his side, between him and his argumentative father, who was complaining about something Arthur had done the week before. She poured more wine into Arthur’s goblet, ignoring Arthur’s hastily stifled smirk and Uther’s enraged glare.

“Move,” Uther snarled, knocking Merlin to the ground with a heavy-handed swing of his fist. The wine in Merlin’s hand spilled over the table and onto the floor, covering Merlin. Arthur’s goblet flew into the air and landed on the edge of Uther’s plate, knocking its contents onto the floor. Silence descended upon the entire court as Merlin lay silently on the ground, wide eyes staring up at Arthur’s shocked expression. In the second before Arthur could react, Merlin spoke without thinking.

“How dare you?” she snarled, her voice coming out even deeper than the usual masculine tone. Spells were wonderfully useful at keeping one safe from rapists and kings who believed in “Le Droit de Seignior”, who were honestly part of much the same crowd. Uther now blinked down at the servant who was slowly rising to her feet.  
“Excuse me?” he replied.

“I was only attempting to fulfill the duties that you,” she emphasized the pronoun, “bestowed on me and you knock me to the ground because you’re in a foul mood and had a nightmare about your wife’s death last night? I believe you ought to apologize for your missing manners.” In the moment after the words left her mouth, she reflected that perhaps the Ladies should have sent her as Arthur’s betrothed or something, because she was about to lose her head.

“Father, pay no attention to Merlin,” Arthur was quickly pushing Merlin away, though much more gently and maneuvering between the two, “He just knocked his head when he tripped and he forgets who he’s speaking to.” Merlin nodded silently and eagerly followed Arthur’s silent order to “get the fuck out of here, you nitwit”. Merlin sequestered herself in Arthur’s room, magicking the room spotless and polishing Arthur’s armor and ascertaining that all his clothing was clean and a hot bath was waiting on him, along with his favorite bedtime snack: sugar biscuits and hot chocolate. She then summoned a page boy with falsified orders to get revenge for Arthur on one of the stable-hands. When Arthur came stalking in a few hours later with a thousand orders on the tip of his tongue to see Merlin polishing his armor with a steaming bath waiting, he froze. Then he melted and sighed.

“I cleaned your chambers and your clothes and I’m already polishing your armor and I took the liberty of drawing you a bath and fetching sugar biscuits and hot chocolate,” Merlin offered in lieu of an apology, “And I sent a page boy to have the stables mucked out, by Gorgon, that idiot who forgot to tighten your saddle this morning.”

“Oh,” the word came out on a sigh, before a gruffness came into his tone, “Well, don’t just sit there. Get me out of this satin contraption so I can put that bath to good use.” Merlin thought, not for the first time, that his voice could move mountains, let alone a poor virgin subjected to being his manservant. She quietly undid the laces, making certain to keep the contact to a minimum. For the first time, Arthur was paying attention to her careful ministrations and grabbed her thin wrist, stilling her actions.

“Yes, sire?” she was proud that she sounded a lot more put together than she felt. Arthur was silent for a long moment.

“Merlin,” he paused, “Is there anything important that you aren’t telling me? Not like your kitchen friend caught a cold, but something actually important?” Merlin started at the question. She had been grumbling about Adara having caught a cold the week before.

“She’s better now,” Merlin murmured. Arthur nodded, still waiting for an answer. Merlin chewed gently on the inside of her lip, searching for a reasonable response. “Whatever do you mean by important, sire?”

“Is there any possibility that you might not be just the son of a former servant who grew up in Ealdor to be exceedingly clumsy with large ears and blue eyes entirely too large for any boy?” Arthur’s voice was rough, and his hand was still fastened around her wrist, his shirt half falling off his shoulders.

“Why would you think there was?” Merlin queried back, her voice quiet and timid. She prayed she hadn’t given herself away.

“No mere servant speaks so boldly to a King, Merlin,” Arthur replied, “No matter how hard they’ve hit their head.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” she replied quietly, “I am sorry…”

“Don’t apologize!” Arthur snapped, cutting her off. Merlin merely ducked her head submissively. Arthur calmed at the sight. “Who are you, Merlin?”

“I cannot lie to you, my lord,” Merlin replied without answering, wrenching her wrist from Arthur’s hand and pulling his shirt over his head. Arthur’s jaw tightened in anger. His hand fisted in Merlin’s shirt.

“This conversation is not over,” he growled. His shirt hung forgotten in Merlin’s hand, Merlin staring wide-eyed up at Arthur’s impossibly close body. The knock at the door went unheeded and then the door opened without either of them noticed.

“Oh, sorry, princess,” Gwaine’s voice broke the tense silence, “I was just going to check on Merlin.”

“I’m fine,” Merlin stepped back as Arthur let go of her shirt and straightened imperially. Merlin forced herself not to roll her eyes.

“That’s good,” Gwaine chuckled, “Sorry to interrupt.” He pulled the door closed as Arthur chucked a forgotten goblet at the door. Merlin let her eyes roll at that, tossing Arthur’s shirt aside.

“Well, the water isn’t going to stay warm forever,” Merlin commented, sinking back onto the floor next to the armor and taking up the polishing rag. Arthur did not respond, stripping out of his trousers and boots before sinking into the still hot bathwater. After a long moment, Arthur broke the silence.

“The water is still hot,” he said wonderingly. Merlin nearly cursed aloud. She had wondered at his obliviousness. One day he will notice, she had chastised herself while continuing to ease his way and her chores with magic.

“I had just fetched it scalding when you arrived,” Merlin lied. Arthur froze, his head snapping around to stare at Merlin, his eyes quickly focusing.

“You cannot lie to me, Merlin,” Arthur whispered, his eyes wide with horror, not wanting to know what he had suddenly realized. Merlin’s eyes were wide with terror, knowing exactly what Arthur’s expression meant.

“Mercy,” Merlin whispered, the word wrung from the depths of her soul entirely against her conscious will. Arthur saw the stifled curse the second after the word uttered itself through her lips and the pain that stabbed his heart in the same moment was not remotely unrelated. Would that Merlin trusted him after all this time.

“Warm water never hurt anyone,” Arthur shrugged, leaning back in his bath and sighing, “But Merlin…” Merlin froze. “You’ve got some explaining to do.” Merlin could not reply from fear and Arthur did not press. The conversation was dropped. However, Arthur did not comment as his bathwater stayed heavenly warm until he got out. As his feet touched warmed stone, he glanced wonderingly at Merlin, who blushed.

“Yes, milord?” Merlin’s voice was small.

“A few warmed stones never hurt anyone either,” Arthur chuckled, wrapping himself in a warmed towel and padding over to where his hot chocolate was still steaming and his sugar biscuits were still warm. Arthur took a long draft of the perfectly warmed chocolate and sighed, “This is good, Merlin.”

“Thank you, sire,” Merlin whispered.

“You do owe me an explanation though,” Arthur chuckled. Merlin chanced a look up at Arthur’s face. He looked less than murderous. In fact, he looked almost jovial. Either Arthur was taking this very well, or he was very glad to finally have a reason to burn Merlin alive for her idiocy. Merlin moved to get Arthur’s nightshirt from the wardrobe and Arthur watched her progress across the room. “Is that your only secret, Merlin? Or have you been keeping even more things from me?”

“Uh,” Merlin stuttered, fingers twisting in the soft fabric of the long shirt. She could not answer that question.

“Oh,” the word was long and low as Arthur rose and crossed the room, pausing just behind Merlin. Merlin turned, the nightshirt hanging from her hand, forgotten. Arthur stepped forward and placed one hand on either side of Merlin.

“Sire?” Merlin breathed, pressing back against the wardrobe. Arthur chuckled low in his throat.

“No more secrets, Merlin,” Arthur murmured, “Full disclosure. What are you keeping from me?”

“Nothing?” it became a squeak and a question. It had been intended to be a statement. Arthur laughed softly.

“Nothing?” he replied, a hint of mockery in his tone. Merlin nodded miserably, trying not to meet Arthur’s eyes. “Liar,” it was a soft accusation, lacking heat.

“I can’t tell you,” Merlin finally managed.

“You will,” Arthur corrected, “I don’t tolerate secrets. It builds distrust and distance between soldiers.”

“I’m not a soldier,” Merlin replied, meeting Arthur’s eyes. It was a grave mistake. Arthur was trying to see into Merlin’s soul and his hair was still wet and falling in his eyes and he was naked with only a towel slung around his waist. Merlin fought to stay upright.

“What are you, then?” Arthur asked softly and the tone snapped something inside Merlin.

“I’m sorry,” she managed as she sank to the floor in tears. Arthur started in surprise, bending down and gathering Merlin into his arms.

“Gods, Merlin, you’re such a girl,” Arthur teased as she calmed down. A fresh round of tears fell at his words.

“Exactly,” Merlin sobbed onto Arthur’s bare shoulder. Arthur tensed as it clicked in his mind. A silent intake of breath followed the tensing. Merlin looked up tentatively, afraid of Arthur’s reaction. Arthur had not thrown her across the room yet though. Arthur was processing, his eyes glazed as he thought. Merlin started to edge her way out of his embrace, but his arms tightened as his eyes focused again.

“Merlin, are you a woman?” Arthur asked the question calmly. Merlin bit her lip as she nodded. Arthur nodded in reply, still processing. “I suppose this was because the road is a dangerous place for a woman alone and Gaius really oughtn’t have an unmarried female assistant, especially living in his chambers.”

“Well…” Merlin started, wondering just how far this accepting mood would hold, “That was most of it, yeah. I could have gotten around being an unmarried woman living with Gaius by claiming him as a grandfather or something. My mother was his assistant a long time ago and people have very short memories. I just also knew your father believes in Droit de Seignior.”

“What?” Arthur shook his head in confusion, “I didn’t think anyone did that anymore. It’s ridiculous.” He paused. “Father wouldn’t…” Arthur screwed up his face in concentration, “He would, wouldn’t he?”

“He has,” Merlin replied softly, “Even since I’ve been here.”

“Alright,” Arthur nodded musingly, “I guess I understand keeping that a secret. When did you start studying sorcery? You don’t seem the type, and who could have taught you in Ealdor?”

“I was born with magic, Arthur,” Merlin shrugged, “It’s in my blood. It’s a gift,” she paused, “Or curse, depending on your point of view. Just anyone couldn’t pick up a book of spells and make them work.”

“But Father…” Arthur paused in confusion, eyeing Merlin suspiciously, “You lied to me about whether that was really Mother, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Merlin nodded, “You would never have forgiven yourself and it would have slowly burned your heart out. An empty husk of a man makes a poor King.”

“I’m a prince,” Arthur automatically corrected before understanding her words. “Wait, you don’t want to take over the throne for yourself? Your people?”

“You are meant to be King, Arthur,” Merlin shrugged, “I’m just here to keep you from killing yourself.” Arthur eyed Merlin suspiciously again, trying to understand.

“Meant?” the word was confusing him, “Like destiny?”

“Like destiny,” Merlin nodded, “You’ve got a big one. Someone has to keep you alive long enough to fulfill it. Though I believe you are supposed to die young in a blaze of glory and be unmatched by all of your successors.”

“Oh?” Arthur chuckled, “Well, tell me something I don’t know.”

“Hunith isn’t my mother,” Merlin answered with a shrug. Arthur stared back. “She isn’t. I wasn’t born in Ealdor. I was born on the magical side of the Blessed Isle and my mother died of complications after my birth. She came down with some illness or another. No one knows who my father is. The Ladies suspect it’s the Duke of Mercia, the King’s younger brother.”

“Well, I didn’t know that,” Arthur conceded, “Who are these Ladies?”

“Scholars of the Old Religion,” Merlin explained, “Sorceresses, priestesses, guardians of the balance. They train powerful sorceresses and those left on the isle in the ancient arts. They are the Ladies of Avalon.”

“Oh,” Arthur was obviously reconciling his own concepts of magic with Merlin’s off-hand comments. “So, Morgause…”

“Was trained by a Lady who was banished for using her magic to seek unnecessary revenge on an unfaithful lover,” Merlin finished the trailing sentence. “Such behavior is unbefitting a Lady. Her titles were stripped and her magic bound when she was banished. Apparently she sought succor as Morgause’s nanny. She absconded with Morgause in the night when Morgana was born. It was thought they had perished on the road.” She could see the understanding light in Arthur’s eyes.

“So, there are standards one ought to meet,” he was smiling again.

“Yes, like being a knight. However, there are always bandits who have an uncanny ability with a sword,” Merlin chuckled, “And peasants who want revenge for their master’s cruelty.”

“I’m not cruel,” Arthur mused. Merlin shook her head, agreeing. The sound of the changing guard outside shook them out of their moment and they parted, the conversation aborted.

In the days that followed Arthur more and more noticed the small magicks that Merlin worked to ease both of their lives. Bath water never chilled. Food stayed the perfect temperature. A small fire that let off almost no smoke warmed the entire room. Uneven stones tripped up those who insulted the prince. Stains disappeared from his clothing without it having to be scrubbed to within an inch of its life. The room stayed clean even though Merlin was always at Arthur’s side. The armor was always perfectly polished. Bedrolls were soft as downy, even rolled out on the ground on quests. Arthur would quirk an eyebrow at Merlin every time he noticed something new, asking silently if it was magic. Merlin would duck her head or nod, a series of never-ending tiny revelations that built trust between the Once and Future King and his sorceress.


End file.
